Friendly Fire
by LostinOblivion
Summary: FINISHED Getting shot by the bad guys is bad enough, what happens when it's a fellow cop firing the bullets? Tony/Ziva-ish, hints of Jenny/Gibbs
1. Chapter 1

_This is set sometime in early season five, after the Jeanne mess, but before Jen was killed. So, I started this in February, and then had a raging case of writer's block. Still turning over the end in my head, but I'm confident I can finish it now. So, thank you for reading, and please review!_

* * *

Ziva nodded her ready, her back flush against the outer wall of the warehouse, to the left of the door. Gibbs moved from his position on the right side, and threw a strong kick, sending the door flying open in a crash of splinters. He maneuvered in, his gun aimed, arms tight against his body, turning to clear the right side. Ziva was directly behind him, eyes focused as she swept the left side, fully concentrated on the mission.

They moved silently through the large structure, McGee and Tony's voices occasionally interrupting through their earpieces, as they investigated a warehouse in another part of town. The suspects were in one of the buildings; two Pakistani men with big plans to bomb D.C. A young Petty Officer died trying to warn his superiors about the men, whom he'd overheard in a bar.

Cartons and boxes filled the warehouse, making clearing it a bit precarious. The men could be hiding anywhere. They got to the opposite end of the building, and found a card table, two chairs, a laptop, a Pakistan flag, and the left over refuse from a bomb workshop. The device was likely in a vehicle for transport to their detonation site, but Gibbs was glad to have Ziva with him anyway. If they found it she could disarm it.

Movement. A flash of brown, the scuff of sneakers. Ziva already had her gun pointed to the noise when he turned to look. She treaded carefully, and silently in that direction. Gibbs was on her six, keeping a distance, with his weapon aimed a few feet to her left.

Both NCIS agents heard the tiny little beep, just before the mess of boxes to Gibbs right exploded. They hit the ground, uninjured from the small blast, but still struggling in the shrapnel and smoke, Ziva rolling to stifle the flame eating at the back of her windbreaker.

The scuff of sneakers moving away from them had Ziva yanking her head up from the floor, seeing the men running toward a back door. She turned to Gibbs, who was blinking and coughing, but unharmed. She leapt up, yanking off her burnt windbreaker, and ran toward their suspects, heedless to the danger of going after them alone.

"This is MP137, we're in the area and on our way. The Feds mention what they're after?" Officer Drew Bergman asked into the radio.

He was 24, good-looking, and hoping to get himself a gold shield one day. Helping the Feds take down a suspect, that couldn't hurt his chances.

"All they said was two Pakistani terrorists." The dispatcher answered.

"Figures," Officer Jay Thompson said. He was two decades older than Drew, blue-collar his whole life, and out of patience with the scum he saw everyday on the job. No matter how many people they put away, no matter how many bad guys they got off the street, there was always more.

Drew steered through the shipping yard, down toward the large, seldom used warehouses. They weren't in fantastic condition, so most people rented the newer ones. No point in trusting your merchandise to storage units that might leak, or who knew what else.

The explosion surprised them, but left them with little question of which building to aim for. Drew threw on the lights, and gunned the engine of the Crown Vic, heading toward the cloud of smoke. Near the building, he initiated a half-spin, and squealed to a stop, throwing the car in park.

Using their doors as shields, the DCPD cops crouched behind them, and aimed toward the warehouse, as a woman flew out, gun drawn. They didn't have much time to think, she was firing her weapon at the small shed by the dock. She looked Middle Eastern. Drew and Jay took aim, firing at the woman. Three shots each.

She went down.

A man flew out of the building toward her. He had to be one of the Feds they were called in to back-up. He stopped short when he saw the suspect on the ground. Only seconds before he ran toward her, gun still drawn.

They jogged over to him, both their guns out, better safe than sorry.

* * *

Oh god, oh god. They got her, the bastards got her. Gibbs sprint toward Ziva, his stomach twisting violently at the volume of red already seeping out into her sweater and on the pavement.

He saw both their suspects were already down for the count, blood oozing out of their bodies, taking their lives with it. They couldn't have shot her, his head whipped around, landing on the LEOs in their patrol blues.

"NCIS!" He whipped his ID out to show them, watching them lower their weapons. "You idiots just shot an NCIS agent!"

Gibbs slid down beside Ziva, sighing as he saw her eyes still open. "Call for a bus!"

"W-w-what?" The younger officer stuttered, standing only a few feet away now. The older one was dialing for the ambulance, no less shocked than his young partner, but better at handling it.

"Ziver, hang on, a bus is coming." Gibbs surveyed her injuries, noting four entry wounds. Three in the chest—two in the vest, one above it—and one in her abdomen, below the vest.

"We…g-got them," Ziva choked out at him.

"Yeah, you did. Both of them. You did good." It was then, Tony and McGee's panicked voices actually made it into his brain. He forgot for a moment that they could all hear and talk to each other.

"_Ziva! Boss, what happened!"_ Tony shouted.

"_Are you guys okay? What's going on!"_ McGee was just as loud.

"Local LEOs mistook Ziva for one of our suspects, get over here now."

"_Is she alright?"_

"No DiNozzo, she's not," he snapped, shutting off their mics.

Gibbs took a moment to glance up at the cops, the younger one had his mouth open, looking like he'd just been sucker-punched. The older one just stared, eyes wide, but face impassive.

Gibbs yanked his blazer off, and pressed it into the chest wound, trying to ignore Ziva's hiccupping gasps. He knew that sound. The bullet above her vest must have torn through a lung, and blood was pouring in, making it impossible for her to breathe.

"Hang in there, kid," he whispered to her.

"Not a k-kid…for…l-long time, Gibbs." Speckles of blood landed on her lips and chin as she coughed out the words.

"Yeah, I know that." One hand pressing against one of the wounds, Gibbs moved the other to stroke through her hair.

Her hat had come off in the blast, so he could see her hair pulled away from her face and fastened to her head on either side with little clips. It was a style she wore fairly often, and while it usually made her look younger, her injuries added to make her look very vulnerable.

She looked like a teenager, and it made the situation all the more grotesque.

"C-chest hurts."

"Don't talk, Ziver."

"Can-can not b-breathe."

"You've got at least one bullet in a lung. You've got to try though." Sirens erupted near-by as an ambulance sped toward them, squealing to a stop.

"G-go wit-with me?" One of her hands floundered through the air, groping for his. Gibbs met it, and held onto it, both their palms slick with blood.

"Can't. I've got to take care of things here." Namely, ripping two DC cops brand new assholes.

"P-please?" Her dark eyes were wet, growing almost glassy, but strong enough to beg him.

"I'll send Abby to the hospital."

Ziva shook her head, the first traces of pain breaking out on her face. Even she couldn't hide it forever. "I D-do not wan-want to di-die alone."

"You won't die, Ziver. You don't have permission to die."

A smile became a grimace as pain coursed through her body. "D-does not work…l-like that."

"Worked for DiNozzo." Still holding her hand, he moved to give the paramedics room to work.

She groaned and whimpered as they moved her onto a gurney, the movement jarring her wounds. Gibbs squeezed her hand through a flurry of pressure bandages, IV tubing, an oxygen mask, and yelled numbers he didn't understand.

"Take her to Bethesda Naval," He instructed them when finished their ministrations, and pulled the gurney to it's elevated position.

"She's Navy?"

"NCIS." Gibbs showed them his badge, smearing it with blood from his fingers.

The paramedics nodded, ready to roll with her. Holding her left hand between his, Gibbs bent over, and placed a kiss on her cheek, then whispered his lips close to her ear.

"You will not die. You fight, Ziver. Don't you stop. Ever."

She nodded, and Gibbs could see her lips trembling under the oxygen mask, and her eyes swimming. He dropped her hand, and let the paramedics race off with her, knowing that image would haunt him in nightmares.

* * *

Tony drove as fast and erratically as Gibbs, maybe even Ziva, speeding toward the other warehouse. They weren't more than a few miles away, but mid-day traffic was a bitch. His body was humming with adrenaline, fear gripping his brain, and pumping the hormone into his veins. Ziva had to be okay, he couldn't imagine it any other way.

She was shot. That was about all they knew. It was enough to scare the hell out of them.

"She's alright, right?" McGee asked, body tense as he gripped the door handle of the Charger.

"I know as much as you, Probie."

"But, it's Ziva. She's like…invincible."

"She's not a comic book character, McGee. Flesh and blood just like the rest of us."

McGee offered a dubious look.

"Okay, so maybe not quite like the rest of it, but her skin isn't thick enough to stop bullets."

"What about her vest? Weren't they both wearing vests?"

McGee needed reassurance, but Tony had none to give him. The same questions were running through his mind, the same denials. _Ziva was practically Wonderwoman, didn't she have some secret Mossad trick to dodging bullets?_

"I don't know, Probie. We'll find out when we get to the scene."

Tim nodded then, seeming to understand that Tony was as much at a loss as he was. But, he had faith. Gibbs was there. Between the two of them—both practically superheroes—she had to be alright. Well, maybe not alright, but at least not as bad as his mind was thinking.

"Shit." Tony cursed as he screeched to a stop. An ambulance just left, screaming away from the docks. He jumped out of the car, and headed toward Gibbs, McGee by his side.

Gibbs turned toward them, at the sound of their approached, and Tony stopped short, nearly turning and vomiting on the spot.

"Please tell me all that red is from our terrorists."

Gibbs shook his head. "She took a round here," Gibbs pointed toward his left-side, up by his collarbone, "it entered a lung, and one in her stomach, below the vest."

Tony heard McGee gasp, but was unable to make a sound himself.

"She'll be fine. Take these two back to NCIS." Gibbs gestured disdainfully toward the two DC cops. "One of you better call your superior and tell him to meet you there. Your Union Rep as well."

"Y-you can't be seriously considering prosecuting us for this," the older cop said.

"Oh no?" Gibbs walked up into the cop's face. "You shot a federal officer! The least I want is both your badges!"

He turned back to his agents. "Tony, call Ducky, send him down here. McGee, call Abby and tell her to get herself to Bethesda, ASAP."

The guys nodded, and whipped out their phones, still too shocked to react to anything but their leaders orders.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva could hear their voices calling out medical terms, felt them moving around her, but her vision was a blurry mess. She'd pass out very soon.

The sweet copper of her blood poured out all over, overwhelming the air in the small vehicle, and making her sick. They didn't seem to notice. Or maybe they were just so used to the smell it didn't bother them.

She wished Gibbs was still beside her holding her hand; contrary to his orders, she didn't believe she'd make it to the hospital. She wanted to be looking into friendly eyes when she took her last breath, eyes filled with goodwill for her trip into the next world. The affection in his eyes would shield her from her sins, be the proof that she was worthy of a peaceful afterlife.

Not like Ari. Not like her father.

But, like her mother. Like Tali.

Her blurred vision became black, and Ziva was gone. Her consciousness escaped the ambulance for the deserts of Israel, and the big tree in her childhood backyard.

"_Help me, Ari! I want to climb too!" Her six year-old self begged him. _

_She was jumping up and down, staring up at him, already in the tree. Her head was so thick with dark curls that few sprung from the clip her mother took great pains to fasten in. _

"_Alright, alright, Ziva. Let me come down, and I will help you up." He grinned indulgently at his little sister. _

_He was twelve, and unlike most big brothers, he did not live full time with his little sisters, and so treasured the moments he did have with them. Though Tali was very small still, a babe in a crib. _

_Little Ziva though, was a trip. Not like most little girls, and so damned determined to be just as strong and brave as boys twice her age, she would follow them up trees. _

_He dropped down from the lowest branch, and began lecturing her on safety. Her mother would be very upset if she fell out of the tree, so she had to listen carefully, and do exactly as he said. _

_He helped heave her up onto the lowest branch, lifting her by her legs, but letting her grab the branch and pull herself up. He followed her, easing her onto the next branch, proud of his baby sister's fearlessness. But, not so proud he wouldn't scold her for rushing herself. _

"_Go slow, Ziva! You must be careful, or you'll fall!" _

"_I am fine Ari! I can do it!" _

_Ziva pulled herself up onto the next branch, her skinny little legs dangling momentarily, her mouth shut firmly in concentration. She did not stop there. The next branch, the one after that, and on and on, until she was nearing the top, and Ari was sounding nervous below her. _

"_Please slow down, Ziva!" He scolded again. _

"_I'm almost to the top, Ari! Then I will stop." She turned and shot him a grin, no fewer than four teeth missing, casualties in the battle for adult teeth. _

_She'd yanked number four out before it was fully ready, tired of all the wiggling, and left her mouth a bloody mess. Gave her mother a good scare, and earned a lecture from her father on impatience. _

_In the next few weeks, she'd rip out two more loose teeth: one to show off to the boys at school, and one to scare a babysitter. _

_Ziva got to the last branch, tested the strength just as Ari had taught her, and found a good grip. Using all her might, she pulled herself up, finishing flat on her belly, panting with the effort. Then Ziva got a look down, and her chest grew tight. Oh goodness, she was so high up, so very high off the ground in her backyard. _

"_A-Ari?" She called uncertainly, hanging onto the branch for dear life. _

"_Right behind you, Ziva. What's wrong?" _

"_I did not realize how high we were." _

_He chuckled, and Ziva scowled at him, more angry at herself and her fear than her big brother's amusement. _

_The branch shook as Ari grabbed it, and pulled himself up, and Ziva clung to it with white knuckles, still staring at the ground far below. _

"_I will not let you fall, Ziva, Do not worry." Ari grinned as he grabbed her arms, and lifted her into a sitting position. _

_She sat, her back to him, her heart pounding in her ears. Ziva scooted back, so she was leaning against him, huddling beside her very brave big brother. He locked an arm around her waist, holding her in place, and offering her the security she needed. _

_Feeling safe now, Ziva took the opportunity to lean forward, to enjoy the view. She could see the surrounding yards, and all the roofs of the neighborhood houses. They were almost in the sky, and Ziva wondered what it would be like to live there, to live forever in the sky. To be untouched by the world below. The chaos and death of Israel, the cold eyes of her father, and the wavering strength of her mother. _

"_Hey Ari?" _

"_Yes?"_

"_Can we stay up here forever?" _

_

* * *

_"What?" Jenny snapped, staring at Gibbs in disbelief.

"You heard right, Jen."

"She was shot _by_ _cops?_" The director slammed a folder down, anger winning out over worry.

"Yep. They mistook her for a Pakistani terrorist." Gibbs voice was neutral; he couldn't afford to be otherwise.

"How? Did they miss the NCIS logos? Are they rookies?"

"One is a rookie, the other has been around longer. And, she wasn't wearing her windbreaker or hat."

"Why the hell not?"

"Hat fell off, windbreaker was burnt, so she took it off. It happened very fast, Jen. She didn't have time to wonder if local cops would shoot first and ask questions later."

"Well, what about her vest?"

"She was wearing it, and a couple bullets did land in the vest, but two didn't."

He was in her office, reporting the disaster that had been their attempt to apprehend two terrorists. He'd rescinded his order to Tony and McGee, and driven back to NCIS with the cops himself. But, he sent an agent back to the scene with the crime scene bus. Tony and McGee were still there, protecting the scene and awaiting Ducky and Palmer. Abby was probably already at the hospital, begging for information in a storm of runny mascara, and red-faced explanations.

Jen was silent for too long, and Gibbs remembered that she had been friends with Ziva before any of the rest of them ever knew she existed. He didn't know if the two of them talked much now, but knew that Jen had a lot of respect for the Mossad officer. Ziva had saved her life once, and this could not be easy information for her.

She'd saved his life once too.

"How am I supposed to tell Mossad this?"

"With a phone call."

"Christ Jethro, her father is the Deputy Director, don't you think he'll want someone to behead?"

"He'll be a little pissed, but I'm sure he'll get over it."

"Oh yeah?" She was about the fight, but instead deflated. "How the hell am I supposed to call him, and tell him his daughter might not survive the night because two city cops can't tell the difference between a Pakistani terrorist and an Israeli federal agent?"

"I don't think he'll take it that hard, Jen." Gibbs doubted the man would do more but huff and puff.

"She's his child."

"The man doesn't know how to have children. She's his weapon," he said. "And, he doesn't deserve her."

Jen looked at him then, something different in her eyes. Realization maybe. That her former lover was taking this harder than he'd ever admit. "Maybe you're right."

He nodded.

"She'll be alright, Jethro." He needed to hear it. He might not believe it, but he needed someone to reassure him, before he ran out of reassurances for his team.

"Uh huh."

That was it. That was all she'd get from him on that. "Alright, let's go talk to these cops."

* * *

Drew paced around the interrogation room like a nervous rabbit, constantly looking from side to side, waiting for someone to come in. Jay was seated at the table, silent, but less nervous than Drew. He removed his cap and ran a hand over his burnt sienna hair, completely ignoring Drew. The kid looked guilty, pacing like he was, Jay wasn't about the let the Feds do that to him.

Their boss was on the way, as was a union lawyer, ready to defend them from the pissed off Feds. He couldn't really blame them, but still, she should have been wearing markings, something to tell them what she was. Especially, since she looked like one of them, though he supposed she should have been wearing all those veils and shit. He still didn't know what she was, her name sounded foreign though. Ziva?

Wasn't that a cheap beer substitute?

Or was that Zima?

The door suddenly slammed open, and the pissed off Fed walked in, accompanied by an equally pissed redhead. Lieutenant Combs was right behind them, and a young suit was behind him.

"Officers Thompson and Bergman, I'm your union rep, Ben McKenzie." The young suit extended his hand to the officers.

The Lieutenant came forward next. "You met Agent Gibbs already, and this is Director Shepard," he gestured to the redhead.

"Now that we're all acquainted, how about you boys tell us how you managed to put one of my agents in the ER?" She snapped, her voice offering no apology.

"It wasn't our fault," Jay immediately defended.

"Just tell us what happened, Jay, so we can clear this up." The Loo didn't see Gibbs shooting daggers at him.

"We didn't know she was a Fed, Ma'am," Drew said, his voice shaky.

"You didn't ask though, did you?"

"No, we didn't have time. She came running out, and was firing her gun, we thought she was one of the suspects, so we fired. It was our only option, she was already firing."

"Officer Bergman," Gibbs looked intently at the young man, "how many female Muslim terrorists have you ever heard of?"

"Uh well, none sir. They're usually men."

"And, how many Muslim terrorists have you seen wearing Kevlar vests?"

"None, sir."

"Then what made you think she was a terrorist, and not one of the federal agents you were dispatched to assist?" His voice was calm, patient almost, never betraying the pit of anger bubbling inside him, building up, like lava before an eruption.

"She looks like one of them," Jay offered, before Drew could speak and attempt to cover their assumption with political correctedness. "And, she was armed and firing. We made a split-second decision."

"She's Israeli, Officer. Not Pakistani. Jewish, not Muslim. And, she's fought to protect our country, not destroy it." Jen tried to keep her voice as level as Gibbs, but some venom seeped in.

The Loo held up a hand. "But, she was one of yours? What the hell is an Israeli woman doing with Federal credentials?"

"Officer David is on loan to us. She's a liaison with NCIS, an officer with Mossad."

"What's that?" The lawyer finally opened his mouth, asking the question in all three cops eyes.

"It's an Israeli intelligence organization, like the CIA but with fewer rules and more brutality." Jen enjoyed the little twinkle of fear in the patrol officers' eyes.

The Loo cleared his throat. "I'm not sure what you're looking for here, Director? Obviously, this was an error in judgment, an accident, and nothing more."

Her head whipped toward his. "What I want, Lieutenant, is to not have to call Tel Aviv, and tell them a couple _American policemen _may have killed Officer David. What I want, is to not have to tell her father he just lost his only living child. What I want, is something to tell my people, to reassure their shaken faith."

"Something we can give you, Director."

"Their badges, Lieutenant. To start. I can't promise her superiors in Tel Aviv won't want their own investigation."

"You can't seriously be thinking of turning them over to this Mosade?"

"Mossad. And, I won't send them to Tel Aviv, if that's what you're worried about. I will however, allow whatever representative they're sure to send from the Israeli consulate to have an opportunity to talk to the officers."

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that." The Lieutenant frowned at her.

"I don't give a damn. These officers aren't going anywhere until I've settled this matter with Tel Aviv. I _hope_ they haven't put American-Israeli relations in jeopardy." Jen rose from her chair then, and walked toward the door without looking back, Gibbs behind her.

He shut it harder than necessary, and followed her back to the bullpen.

"Can you call Abby, see if she knows anything yet?" They stopped at his desk, and for once, Gibbs just nodded.

The boys were still at the scene, and the bullpen looked too empty for his liking. There was no banter, no flirting, no McGee struggling to fix whatever destruction his partners caused with their pranks.

"Hey Abs," He said to the sniffle that answered the phone.

"She's still in surgery, Gibbs."

"They tell you anything else?"

"No. They said it would be awhile. Is it true cops shot her, Gibbs? Cause, that's like so wrong! Why would they do that? Couldn't they tell she's one of the good guys? Are they blind or just stupid, or…or…or were they just so, so, so incredibly incompetent they just fire at anything that moves? I mean, what's wrong with people like that, Gibbs? It's not fair, Gibbs. It's supposed to be the bad guys that do this, not the good ones, and…" She droned on, railing at the world with tears clinging to her throat, mushing her words.

"Abs," he cut her off. "I know it sucks. We're dealing with it. I'm going to need you back here going over the evidence when Tony and McGee get back, I'll send one of them over to sit with her, okay?"

"Okay, I just…it makes no sense, Gibbs!"

"Yeah, I know. You call me when she gets out of the OR."

"Of course, Bossman."

He smiled and hung up without a goodbye, turning to Jen. "Still in surgery, it's going to be a while."

She sighed, and ran a hand over her face. "What time is it in Israel now?"

* * *

_Thank you all very much for the reviews!_


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter is a little shorter than the first two, but the story is only maybe halfway through, so there's more coming. Thank you all very much for the reviews, they're very much appreciated. _

* * *

"Uh Doctor?" Jimmy Palmer couldn't seem to focus, his gaze constantly drifting.

"Yes, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky turned to look at his young assistant, who was paler then usual.

"That's a lot of blood."

Ducky sighed, following his gaze to the large red puddle Ziva left behind. It was an upsetting quantity, but it wasn't their job at the moment.

"There is nothing you can do for her at the moment, Mr. Palmer. Only help me confirm these two as good shootings."

Jimmy nodded, and pulled his focus away from the blood puddle again. Determined, he crouched by the second cadaver, studying the shot almost through the center of his head. The exit wound was in the front, off the bridge of the nose, toward the left eye. Still, stunningly accurate aim for a foot-chase.

Tony and McGee milled around them. McGee was taking photos, of the bodies, the scene, the blood, the patrol car, the warehouse, everything. Tony was currently in the warehouse, collecting evidence, and avoiding the red puddle outside like the proverbial plague.

Both men were silent, lost in their thoughts of worry and confusion. McGee turned off everything but the investigator part of him, trying to feel as little as possible. Trying not to think about Abby at the hospital, waiting for word on Ziva. If she didn't make it, if the Israeli superhero died on the operating table, he didn't want Abby to have to get that news alone. The relentlessly cheerful goth did not handle loss well.

He didn't want to get that news at all. He didn't want to watch Gibbs shut down further, or see Tony crumble in grief. He needed to finish so he could get to the hospital, and beg, plead, and bargain with Ziva's unconscious form to live, to not leave them. They couldn't take another loss this soon after Kate. Not when Ziva had swept into their lives, and fit into so quickly, so seamlessly.

He mentally ran through all the photos he took, and returned, reluctantly to the blood. He'd only gotten one before running off, unable to look at it for long. Now, McGee swallowed everything that made him human, and studied the red and area surrounding it.

Knee prints from Gibbs. Hand prints. One larger, mostly fingertips, by the knees. Gibbs fingers, bracing himself as he crouched by her. The other was barely discernable, smaller and a full palm, the fingers blurry sweeps toward the messy palm. Ziva's, squeezing her hand into a fist and releasing it as surges of pain came and went. McGee photographed it all, knowing it would all be seared into his mind for an eternity.

A demon to exercise in his book. He could write a heart-breaking scene with Tommy holding a bleeding Lisa, and pleading with her to hold on. His female fans would love that.

If she lived.

If she died, Tommy and Lisa would die with her. He'd never be able to write another word about them. Same if it had been Tony.

Tony chose that moment to exit the warehouse, hands full of bags. He stowed them in the back of the crime scene van, but didn't immediately move. He shifted the bags, exposing a large one on the bottom. An NCIS windbreaker, the back charred black, exposing the lining, which had escaped the flames.

Ziva's jacket. He wondered if her back hurt. If she was burnt at all. Not through the Kevlar. She'd be fine. No burns to mar her smooth olive skin. He wouldn't think about the bullet holes. The scars that would take their place, if the doctors did their jobs well.

He shifted again, and his stomach jumped toward his throat. Her NCIS ball cap. Not her first one-with a hole for insulation. That one, he knew she kept at her apartment, one rare mark of sentimentality in an otherwise unemotional assassin. Or was that former? How long did she have to be with them before they could make that distinction?

He picked up the cap, staring at it through the thick layer of evidence bag plastic, feeling his heart rate jump up at the thought. Her clothes were evidence, that was never a good thing. That was wrong. That meant that she was hurt, that someone hurt her bad enough that she couldn't just walk away.

He tossed the cap back in the heap of bags, and slammed the van door with excess force. Pulling on his DiNozzo the clown suit, he strutted over to Ducky and their dead guys.

"Hey Ducky, how's it coming over here?"

"Fine, dear boy. We already know cause and time of death, we're just documenting everything. Ziva has extraordinary aim, I must say." Ducky continued pouring over his corpse, examining every inch.

"Yeah, well we knew that already. She's an assassin after all." Tony offered.

"Was, Anthony. I dare say she hasn't done that in quite a while." He stood up, pulling off his gloves. "Mr. Palmer, we can prepare them for transport now. Get the bags, would you?"

The young assistant nodded, and ran off to do as asked.

"Hey Probie, you done with photos?" Tony turned to see McGee coming toward them.

"Yeah, did Anderson finish the interviews?"

"Don't know. Haven't seen him. I don't think there were many people to interview though."

"Well, we better find him, and get back." He chose to ignore Tony's inappropriate demeanor, whatever got him through the day was fine.

"Speak of the devil…well, I'd say more like a lesser demon," Tony clarified, wincing as the probie agent nearly dropped his notepad. "Maybe the semi-retarded spawn of a lesser demon."

McGee rolled his eyes. Whatever got him through it, right?

* * *

"Officer Bashan, Jen Shepard, I'm sorry to be meeting under these circumstances." Jen extended her hand to the older man.

"As am I, Director. Deputy Director David regrets he isn't able to make it himself," he explained.

"I'm sure he does," Gibbs cracked, his words sliding thrown grit teeth.

Bashan chose to ignore it. "Any word on Ziva, yet?"

"I'm afraid not, she's still in surgery. We have someone waiting at the hospital, she'll let us know any developments."

He nodded, already appearing drawn and tired, though from what was anybody's guess. "You can imagine this comes as quite an unpleasant surprise. That girl has the spirit of a feral stallion, it's difficult to imagine her any other way."

Jen smiled. "Yes, I can see that…I've spoken with the two patrolmen who—who are responsible, and their superior, and made it clear I want nothing less than their badges. I also informed them, that they may have the Israeli embassy to contend with."

"I'm still not entirely clear on this, Director. How is it two DC police officers came to shoot a federal agent?"

"They said they saw her running from the warehouse, firing her weapon at the actual suspects, and reacted. She wasn't wearing her cap or windbreaker, so they assumed she was the Pakistani terrorist we were after."

Gibbs shifted in his seat, tired of hearing the same explanation, rehashing the stupidity of the DCPD. How could they not tell? Why couldn't they have had worse aim?

"This is very bad for relations between our two countries. Mossad is not very forgiving of injury to its officers, especially injuries caused by our allies."

"I understand. NCIS will back Mossad on any _reasonable_ punishment they choose. Ziva is one of ours, and we aren't taking this lightly." She sent him a meaningful look.

"I will contact Ziva's superiors at Mossad, and confer with them. You will call my office when she comes out of surgery?"

"Yes, of course." Jen stood with him, and offered her hand once again.

Bashan took hers, and then the hand Gibbs offered. "Shalom," he said, before turning to make his exit.

"I told you he wouldn't be too bothered." Gibbs walked around to lean on her desk.

"I'm sure he's very upset, Jethro. Maybe it's easier to let Officer Bashan handle the political mess."

"Since when are you an optimist, Jen?"

"Since I really don't want to tell a young woman that her father doesn't care enough to call while she's fighting for her life in an OR." She sighed and fell back into her chair.

"I don't think it's going to surprise her much."

"That makes it worse."

Gibbs shrugged. "She's got plenty of people here that care."

Jen shook her head, and pulled herself back out of the chair, walking out of her office, and not bothering to check if Gibbs was following. He'd been surprisingly calm since showing up with the bad news, and it was a little unnerving for her. Now, she was stuck waiting for him to stomp into interrogation, and throw one of the patrolmen against a wall.

They arrived in the bullpen just as the elevator was dinging its arrival. The boys got a glimpse of them, and nearly fell over themselves rushing over.

"Have you heard from Abby yet? Is she okay?"

"Is she out of surgery?" They demanded, talking at once.

Gibbs held up a hand to silence any more questions. "She's still in surgery. I need one of you to relieve Abby."

McGee turned to Tony, assuming he'd want to go, and Tony turned to the floor, unable to make eye contact. Gibbs saw this, and came to a quick decision.

"McGee, head over to the hospital. Call us when Ziva gets out of surgery."

The young agent opened his mouth in surprise, but quickly caught himself. With a nod he headed back to the elevator.

"Tony, you get on the phone to you PD contacts and find out anything and everything about our temporary guests."

"They still here?"

"Yep. They're not going anywhere until Mossad tells us what to do with them." Gibbs headed over to his desk.

"I assumed they'd go for firing squad. Gas maybe." Tony followed him over.

"We don't execute for manslaughter, DiNozzo."

"Yeah, but I bet Mossad does." Gibbs gave him an impatient look, which immediately sobered him. In a quieter, almost nervous voice, he asked, "Did you call her father, boss?"

"Yeah."

"What time does his flight get in?"

Gibbs looked up at his protégé, and sighed. "It doesn't."

"Oh." Without another word, Tony went to his desk and set to work.


	4. Chapter 4

"Tim!" Abby found him before he did her, and through her body at him, squeezing him within and inch of his life.

"Gotta breathe, Abby."

She pulled back abruptly, worried green eyes staring into his, looking desperately for reassurance. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"I take it you haven't heard anything yet?"

"No. I mean how long does it take to remove a couple bullets? I guess they have, you know, veins and organs and stuff to fix, but still, should it take this long?"

He escorted her back to the wall of chairs outside the entrance to the OR, and pushed her into a seat. "The way I look at it, they can take as long as they need to, to make sure she's okay. The more careful they are, the less risk of complications, right?"

Abby frowned, considering it. "Yeah, I guess so."

He nodded, and sat beside her, relieved that it didn't take more to placate her.

"McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"It's really true that cops shot her?" The look of uncertainty in her face nearly killed him. She didn't want the answer he had to give her, it would turn the world upside down.

"Yes. They're in custody at NCIS." He squeezed her hand.

"That's so wrong, Timmy."

"Yeah, I know."

"You guys don't just have to worry about the bad guys shooting you, but now the good guys too? What the hell is that?"

McGee knew of nothing he could say to her. Truthfully, that little fact had shaken him too; the cops were on their side. So, he did the only thing he could, he pulled her into his arms, and hugged her almost as hard as she had him.

Minutes passed before he let go, and looked at her. "You feel like processing some evidence?"

She nodded. "You call me as soon as you see the surgeon. His name is Dr. Leonard Mueller. And, watch out for the older nurse with bad auburn dye job, she tried to take me to the psych ward."

McGee stifled a chuckle at that, almost wishing he'd been at the hospital to see it. "Will do on both counts."

Abby nodded and disappeared in a whirlwind of pigtails and chains. McGee was left alone for the first time since hearing Gibbs yelling at the cops for shooting an NCIS agent. He wondered if his face went as pale as Tony's had.

He wondered why Tony hadn't jumped at the chance to go to the hospital, hadn't insisted on it. He knew how close they were, or at least he had a pretty good idea. The both of them wore everything so close to the vest, it was hard to read them, but spending everyday with them had given him some insight. McGee at the very least knew Tony's dynamic with Ziva was completely different than his dynamic with Kate.

Tony and Kate had been like siblings, squabbling and teasing until Gibbs got fed up and head-slapped them. He supposed he was like the baby brother trying to keep up with them.

Tony and Ziva had way too much heat to be siblings (except maybe in certain creepy backwards parts of the country), or even friends long term. They squabbled and teased each other in an excruciatingly long episode of foreplay. McGee himself could attest to the excruciating part—three years was a long time to listen to it.

He snapped out of his thoughts, as his attention was drawn to an older, red-headed nurse. Abby was right, it was a pretty poor dye job.

* * *

"They seem clean, Boss." Tony looked over at Gibbs desk, having searched as deep as he could on the computer.

"Commendations?"

"The young one, not yet. The older officer has one for protecting a mother and her two young kids during a robbery," he read off his notes.

"Citations?" Gibbs walked over to stand in front of him.

"The kid is too young to having anything, boss. The other one has one for excessive force. Could mean he beat someone's head in, or it could mean someone resisted and he had to get a little violent." Tony remembered what it was like being a beat cop, not an easy job.

"Family that were victims of crimes?"

"Well, according to his file, the kid decided to become a cop after his mother was mugged ten years ago. The guy was never caught, but I checked and the mother said he was black. The other guy has nothing. Most of his family is in Maryland, and I had a buddy run their names, and nothing came up. Apparently, they're pretty lucky."

They both turned to see Jen walking down the steps "You two find anything I should know?"

Gibbs shook his head. "They're clean."

Her jaw tensed. "So, they were just stupid and careless then?"

"Yep." He shifted through paperwork, not looking any happier.

She sat on the edge of Gibbs' desk, completely deflated.

"It's easier when you're angry." Gibbs brushed her hand.

"When the alternative is accepting that it was just a mistake? God yes."

"You heard from Mossad yet?"

"Nope. I imagine they want to wait to see if she lives."

"She will."

Jen turned to him, inflating again. "How can you be so damn sure?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Didn't give her permission to die."

* * *

_"Help Ziva! Help me!" Tali sat on the branch below her, her little arms wiggling in the air._

"_Alright, alright Tali. Calm down." Ziva smiled at her seven year-old sister, and determined the best way to get her up. "Stand up, and reach your arms up." _

_Tali did as told, grabbing the branch above her head to steady her wobbling legs. Wrapping her legs firmly around that same branch, Ziva leaned over, and grabbed Tali's arms, pulling her up with all her might. Tali giggled and gasped, but landed firmly on the same branch Ziva was balanced on. _

"_Oh! We're so high!" The little girl shouted with glee. _

"_Careful Tali, it is a long way to the ground." Ziva pulled Tali back against her body, and held her around the waist, secure now that she would not fall. _

_Her big brother had taught her many things. One of them was how to climb a tree, but more important was that being the older sibling meant being responsible. She strived to be as good at it as Ari, but knew she was lacking much of his patience. _

_She was, as her father continually pointed out, highly impulsive. _

"_Ziva?" _

"_Yes, Tali?"_

"_Do you ever miss Ima?" _

_Ziva sighed at that, and ran a hand over her sister's beautiful dark hair. It was straight, like their mother's had been, not like the big mess of curls she had inherited from her father's mother. _

"_Yes, Tali. I miss her everyday." _

_Tali put her little hands over Ziva's, her tiny fingers tracing the bigger hands anchoring her to safety. Her big sister meant everything to her—her teacher, her protector, and occasionally, her partner in crime. At five, Tali wanted to be just like Ziva, so strong and so brave already. At seven, she'd already realized she would never be like that. _

"_I do not remember her. I want to, but I can not." _

_Ziva gave her a little squeeze. "You look a lot like her, Tali, and you are quite like her too, I think. She was always seemed to peaceful, and very cheerful. Even when she was sick, she smiled all the time…"_

_Tali huffed. "Then I don't know how she came to marry Ada."_

"_Tali!" Ziva admonished. "That is not nice! He is our Papa!"_

"_We do not see him much—and _he_ never smiles." She crossed her skinny little arms over her chest. _

"_He misses Ima too, Tali. And, he is very busy. Ada is a very important man." That is what Ziva told herself at least. He loved them, he just had a country to protect._

"_He says one day you will join Mossad." _

"_Yes, like Ari did." _

_Ziva felt little fingers tracing over hers, hesitant. "I do not want you to, Ziva." _

_Ziva started, leaning away from her sister, shock written all over her face. "Why not Tali?"_

"_Father is Mossad, we don't see him. Ari is Mossad now, and he has not come to see us in months." _

"_That is different. Ari is in the IDF now, he can not come to see us." _

"_He does not want you to join Mossad either." Her head was bowed, her thick brown locks sweeping in front of her face. _

"_What?" Ziva shifted Tali to look at her. "Did he tell you that?" _

_She nodded, frightened little girl eyes worried she'd spilled a secret and upset her big sister. _

"_Why Tali? Did he tell you that?" _

"_The training. He does not want you to go through the training." _

_Ziva became indigent. "He thinks I can not handle it?" _

_Tali chuckled. _

"_What's this? You are laughing at me now?" _

_She shook her head. "Ari said you would think that." _

"_Is that why?"_

"_No Ziva, he said he is not worried about that."_

"_Than why Tali?" She demanded. _

_Tali sighed, greatly indignant. "This is what he said, 'Ziva is my sister and I love her, I do not want to see her broken.'" _

_Ziva's mouth clamped shut. She did not understand that. Why would he think she'd be broken? "Did he tell you what that meant?"_

_Tali shook her head again. "I do not think he liked the training Ziva."_

_Ziva scoffed. "You are not supposed to _like_ it, Tali."_

"_I still do not want you to join…what if you get hurt?"_

"_I will not be Mossad for some years yet, by then you will be taking care of yourself."_

"_But what if a boy breaks my heart? Who will comfort me?"_

"_Ari can comfort you, or the many friends you will have," Ziva promised. _

"_Ari would kill the boy. And, I do not want anyone else, I want my sister," Tali insisted, eyes pointed downward._

_Ziva gave her baby sister a squeeze and a peck on the head. "I will try to be careful, Tali." _

_Tali sighed, and leaned back against her, picking her head up and surveying their neighborhood. _

"_We should start climbing down. Seedha will be upset if she catches us up here." Their nanny considered Tali an angel, and Ziva a little too spirited. Ziva knew she tried the older woman's patience, but didn't particularly care, she needed to be active constantly. _

"_I am scared." _

"_Let me start down first, I will help you." Ziva moved Tali's hand to the branch, to make sure she was holding herself on, and began maneuvering down, seemingly without fear. _

_She got to the next branch, and looked up at Tali, only to have her vision swim in front of her. _Suddenly, Ziva was looking at teenage Tali, how she looked before she died. The young girl was smiling and laughing, as beautiful as their mother had been. Then the vision was gone, and Ziva was twelve again, and sitting on a branch.

_She helped Tali down, and then climbed to the next branch, always keeping an eye on Tali. Two, three more branches before Ziva's vision flickered again. _Tali was leaning close, telling her about a boy in her class that she liked. She remembered the conversation, the boy wouldn't ask her out because he was afraid of Eli. Everyone who knew what he was, was afraid of Eli. It was gone again.

_Ziva went to climb down to another branch, conscious of Tali above her, watching her move. Her left foot touched the branch, then the right, but the surface was smooth with climbing wear, and her foot slipped, setting her whole balance off. Ziva lost her hand grip as her left foot twisted awkwardly, slipping off the branch. _

_She plunged ten feet down to the ground, as, still up in the tree, Tali screamed her name. _

* * *

_Once again, thank you for the reviews, and thank you everyone who's reading, alerted, and favorited.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

"Ziva David?" His eyes flew up from the magazine he'd been half-reading to see a man in his late forties, wearing aqua scrubs, a surgeon's cap in one hand. He looked exhausted.

"Tim McGee, NCIS," McGee stood up, and flashed his badge. "How is she?"

"Holding on…" The doctor hesitated and then sighed. "Can I consider you her next of kin?"

Tim swallowed, throat suddenly going dry, as his palms began to sweat. "Uh, yes, yes you can."

"Please come with me." The man motioned to him, and then headed out of the waiting room. "I'm Dr. Mueller, by the way."

McGee followed the doctor down a hallway to the ICU, and stopped outside a curtained room. The doctor nodded to the nurse who exited, but didn't move to enter.

"Agent McGee, I'm going to be honest with you. The bullet in her abdomen only nixed her stomach, so I'm not too worried about that. But, the other bullet bounced off her clavicle and into her left lung. We repaired the damage from the bullet, and pulled two small shards of bone from her lung tissue. She's on a ventilator, and will be until she wakes up, which might not be for a while. She lost a significant amount of blood, and it's going to take her body some time to heal, so don't be alarmed if she's out for a while. Frankly, it's the best thing for her now. I've also got her on strong painkillers and antibiotics. She might open her eyes tonight, or she might not open them until tomorrow." The doctor tensed and hesitated then.

"Doctor, is there something else?" McGee tried not to panic, but his heart was racing in his chest already.

"If she doesn't wake-up by tomorrow night, I'm going to have a neurologist come down to examine her—" McGee went to interrupt, but the doctor held a hand to him. "We lost her twice during surgery. She wasn't gone for long, but it's still a possibility."

Tim cleared his throat. "Okay, I will uh, keep that in mind."

"I would suggest you call her family, Agent McGee. They should know what they're facing."

"NCIS has been in contact with her father, I'll make sure this information gets to him."

The doctor nodded, and gestured to the room, before turning to leave. One step, and he put his hand up, and turned back to McGee. "One more thing, the nurse wasn't sure about the next of kin listed in her file. I think it was Jethro something?"

"Yes, I will call him and let him know what's going on."

"Good, I'll be around to check on her later."

"Thank you, doctor." McGee shook his hand again, and then turned toward the room. He wanted to go in and see her, but part of him was too scared to move. With Tony's voice in his head teasing him, McGee banished the latter part, and put one foot in front of the other.

It was almost surreal. And, his brain was screaming a thousand objections. Blinding white sheets, a hospital gown, monitoring wires, IV tube coming out of her hand, and the respirator taped to her mouth…it just didn't fit. Ziva looked small. She looked small and fragile, and so much not like Ziva. She looked helpless. At this moment, she was completely helpless, and even fragile.

Tim forced a deep breath down his throat into his lungs, and felt it rattle back out seconds later. He wiped away the moisture in his eyes, and steeled his spine, like Gibbs and Tony would. Gently he lifted her hand in both of his and gave it a squeeze.

"Hang on, Ziva. You rest as long as you need to, but do me a favor and open your eyes tomorrow night. I don't want to see Abby cry anymore, and I don't want to see Gibbs shut himself down more." He paused a moment, considering perhaps his biggest fear if she should die. "I don't want Tony to become Gibbs, not that part of him. I know you understand that, Ziva, just like I know you don't want that either." He stopped and struggled again. "Just, please keep fighting…god knows you can."

* * *

Gibbs hung up the phone with a tired sigh. "Ziva's out of surgery. She's doing okay."

Tony didn't even pretend that he hadn't been ease-dropping, he just released the breath that had been caught in his throat for hours. "That's good. That's really, really good."

"Why don't you go see her, DiNozzo?"

He swallowed and met Gibb's piercing blue eyes. "That's alright, I've got uh, paperwork to do."

Gibbs stared him down several minutes, before finally letting it go. "Go tell Abby and Ducky."

"On it Boss." Tony popped up from his chair, and headed to the elevator, accepting the task for what it was—an out.

Because he could not go to the hospital, he couldn't force his feet to enter her room when he knew what he was going to see. He couldn't see Ziva weak. In his mind that didn't exist, that image wasn't something he could accept. Tony sighed as he leaned back in the elevator, he was in more denial than McGee. Sure, Probie experienced some initial 'oh my god, superwoman doesn't get shot!' denial and confusion, but the younger man was there with her now. He'd accepted what happened, and was dealing with it.

Tony couldn't do that. Not when he was still having trouble swallowing, when his pulse was echoing in his head like a bass drum. Loud and hollow and a like a ticking clock. A clock telling him he'd almost run out of time to make things right. To take the awkwardness that had become their relationship, and fix it back to when they laughed together. When she watched him study his dish of Afghan take-out with nothing less than paranoid suspicion, and laughed at his antics.

"_Tony, it is not poison! Just try it!" _

_He sniffed it. The dish that looked suspiciously like ravioli marinara, but as Ziva informed him, was dumplings in tomatoes and yogurt sauce. Afghani food. "Why does it look like Italian food?"_

"_I thought it would be more appealing to your sensitive Italian-American palate." _

"_My palate is not sensitive. It may be suspicious, but not sensitive." _

"_Mmm, I think you are right. Anyone that can eat a dime-pounder with bacon and cheese, and dripping in grease—"_

"_Quarter-pounder, Zee-va."_

"_Whatever. The point is, if you can devour that like it is nothing, you can survive trying some new food." _

_Tentatively he took a bite, surprised at the tangy taste. "Alright, it's not bad."_

"_Oh, and what shock, you did not die!" _

"Tony!" He nearly fell over when Abby flew into his arms, and drove him from the memories in his head. "It's so awful!"

He put his arms around her, and patted her back. "McGee just called. Ziva's out of surgery and doing okay."

She pulled back abruptly wide eyes wet and red, searching his for any signs that he was glossing over the truth to make her feel better. Then she abruptly hugged him again, and Tony found himself for once, needing that hug as much as Abby did.

"Are you okay?" Her soft voice startled him.

He slipped on his clown mask again, big smile sliding onto his face. "Sure I am. I can't wait until she wakes up, can you imagine the great Mossad assassin high on painkillers? I think I might bring my video camera."

Abby pushed back then, almost roughly, and studied him with that look. It was that rabid doberman puppy look. Big sad eyes that held a threat in them. Usually, it was a don't fuck with me threat, but tonight, he knew very well that it was a, 'I've known you too long to buy this act, so you better start talking or you'll learn very quickly these spiked bracelets aren't for show' threat.

"I've got to go report to, Ducky." He'd take his chances with the bracelets.

"Tony."

He hesitated. How was it that women do that? All they need is a tone. "Gotta spread the good news, Abs."

The challenge dropped from her then, and instead she wound her arm into his, and leaned heavily against him. "Let's go see, Ducky."

* * *

"McGee said if she wakes up by tomorrow night, she's in the clear." Gibbs had bypassed the chairs in front of her desk, in favor of invading her personal space and perching on her side of the desk. Jen hadn't objected yet.

"And if she doesn't?"

He didn't need to answer, just let her read his eyes. He knew she'd read them correctly when sadness settled on her face, drawing the edges of her mouth down.

She sighed and dialed a number on the phone, leaving it on speaker. "Officer Bashan, sorry to call so late."

"Director Shepard, you have news on Ziva?"

"Yes, she's out of surgery, and holding on."

He could here the Israli sigh even through the phone. "That is a relief. Her father has been very distressed."

Gibbs barely covered a snort. Jen glared at him.

"I'm sure this will be good for him to hear then. Have you determined how you want to handle the officers responsible?"

"I have spoken with Director David, and he is reluctant to drag this unfortunate situation out through a long prosecution. Mossad will content itself with relieving these officers of their positions, and formal sanctions in their files. The most important thing is that these men are not able to make this mistake again." He sounded tired, but Gibbs had very little sympathy.

Maybe it was a rational decision, maybe it was even the right one, but it wasn't the decision of a father. No, he wanted to push their faces into Ziva's blood soaked clothing, he wanted to make them watch Abby sob, he wanted those two men to understand what they almost took away. What they might yet take away. But, that he knew was irrational.

They would never understand, because they would never love her.

"I will send Mossad a formal report tomorrow then. Thank you, Officer Bashan."

"You will include the information on her hospital and room number?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"Thank you, Director Shepard. I will let you know if Director David has the time to make a trip to the states."

Gibbs smirked as he caught her rolling her eyes. "Well, tell him we'll take good care of her."

"I will. Shalom."

"Shalom." And, that was it.

"See, not too bothered, Jen."

She glared at him. "This isn't something to gloat over, Jethro."

"Not gloating."

"Oh, then what do you call it?"

"Can't be gloating if you never wanted to be right." He slid off her desk and headed to the door. "You coming?"

"Where?"

He didn't bother looking back, but called over his shoulder. "To see Ziva."

* * *

_So, Hiatus was shorter than expected, fortunately. There will be two more chapters, hopefully up pretty quickly. Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

What? Aren't you going to park?" Abby frowned at Tony, the car running, and pulled up to the curb outside the hospital.

"I've got something to do." He said it without any flare, without any hint that it came out of Tony DiNozzo's mouth.

"That's more important than being with Ziva?"

"She's unconscious, Abs. She won't know if I'm there or not."

"Yes, she will. She'll be able to feel we're there, somehow, and she'll know you aren't. Ziva needs positive energy right now, Tony, not worry." Abby stared him down, almost surprised when his expression didn't change at all.

"I'll come by later, I just have to do something."

She kept the disappointed frown on her face as she got out of the car, and shut the door, leaning into the window then. "What do I tell Gibbs?"

"He already knows." And, then Tony threw the car into gear, and drove out of the parking lot.

Abby sighed, and headed into the hospital. She accepted the visitor's badge, and directions to the ICU with a thank you and as much of a smile as she could muster. Even she ran out of rainbows occasionally.

She found McGee, Gibbs and Director Shepard already in Ziva's room, all quiet and looking rather tired. Gibbs and the director sat close together, not much of a surprise there, but the sadness in her eyes was completely unexpected. Abby had never seen her look so human, usually she wore the same super-woman stoicism as Ziva.

Gibbs craned his head, as if looking for someone, but didn't seem surprised not to find him there. It was McGee that asked about him.

"Wasn't Tony coming with you?"

"He had something to do, he'll be here later." McGee's frown said he didn't believe that anymore than she did. Abby slid into the seat beside him, and grabbed his arm, leaning heavily against him.

"How's she doing, Tim?"

He shrugged and gave her hand a squeeze. "She's Ziva, she'll fight her way through."

Abby gave him a soft smile, and turned to the bed that held her friend. She bit her lip, and when she felt a tear trail down her cheek, she shimmied even close to Tim. He didn't seem to mind at all.

* * *

Tony pulled into a small parking lot, thankful that the vase on the floor survived at least this trip without toppling over. He pulled the key from the ignition, and grabbed the bouquet of yellow roses from the car seat. He'd considered red, but that didn't really fit their relationship. She was a traditional girl though, well in some respects she was traditional, and he thought she'd appreciate the roses.

He got into the building, and took the elevator to the roof. When he couldn't find anything to prop the door open with, he pulled off one of his expensive Italian shoes and shoved it between the door and the jam. It was dark, even with the city lights, but bright enough for him to see where he was going. Bright enough for him to find the exact spot where it happened. Kate was buried out west, by her family, so Tony had no tombstone to visit. But, he had this place. The place where she died.

He set the roses down, and struggled for what he wanted to say. "I don't think about you often enough, Kate...but I do miss you." He cleared his throat. "McGee is doing good, he's more sure of himself, I think you'd be proud of him. Not that I don't bust on him every chance I get... And, one of Boss's old flames is our director now. She's a redhead, of course; one of the few Gibb's didn't didn't marry."

Tony glanced away, and shifted uncomfortably. Talking about his feelings had never been easy for him, and talking to a ghost was something he hadn't done since his mother died. Then it was just to tell her how much he hated her. He regretted that now, but he still hadn't forgiven her for being the mess she was. He hadn't quite forgiven Kate either. Not that dying was really her fault.

He chuckled. "And, what have I been doing since you died? Well, let's see Gibbs quit, and I led the team for about five minutes. Then I completely screwed-up an undercover assignment by falling for the woman I was conning. She's the daughter of a major player in weapons dealing by the way. And yeah, I know exactly what you'd say, Kate-what the hell were you thinking, DiNozzo?" He ran his hands over his head. "But, it might shock you to know, I wasn't thinking with little DiNozzo. Yep, Peter Pan finally grew up, and I'll tell you what, Kate...it sucks."

Growing up meant that everything hurt, that he didn't get to hide anymore. "I also got arrested for murder. Did I mention that part? I was cleared, obviously, but it got a little hinky for a while. Fortunately, people don't seem to think I'm the type of guy that chops off women's legs."

Tony chuckled again. "But, the coup de grace on all this mess…that would be Ziva. She's like a spider's web. You see it, how beautiful it looks, and fly right into it. It takes you a minute to realize you're stuck, then you try to get out, distance yourself, and you only get tangled quicker and much, much more thoroughly, until you've lost which way is up. The difference is, that unlike the proverbial fly, you don't really want to get unstuck, you enjoy the web too much."

He shifted, bending down, adjusting the flowers that didn't need adjusting. "And, I didn't even tell you who she is yet, Kate. Where to start with that...Ari Haswari was her half-brother, but she's not like him. Ziva doesn't have that much hate in her. She joined the team shortly after you died as a liaison, because yep, you guessed it, she's Mossad. Not only is she Mossad, but she's one of a their best, a spy, an assassin, and this," he laughed, "this you're really going to enjoy, Kate. Her father is the director of Mossad. Do you think that's better or worse than the daughter of an arms dealer?"

"She almost died today, Kate, and you know that would have made her the fourth woman I've cared about that's died? You were number two. Yes, I just admitted that I cared about you..." Tony sighed. "I'm afraid to see her, because that will make it more real, and I don't know if I can handle that. One of the great things about Ziva is that she always seemed invulnerable…except that she's not."

He swallowed to keep his throat from cracking. "I'm tired of saying goodbye, Kate. And, I don't think I _could_ say goodbye to her."

* * *

Ziva was definitely not in the tree anymore, but she didn't remember landing. And, where was Tali, she could have sworn she'd heard her scream before? Now all her heard was a constant, soft beeping that was proving rather irritating. And, her throat was sore, aching and it felt like there was something jammed down it. Her chest hurt, it felt hard to breathe, and her stomach too. She could feel every breath she took pull a deep ache from those places. What had she done to herself when she fell? Papa was going to be furious. Her eyes began to flutter, bright light intruding on her confused thoughts, and the more aware she became, the more unbearable the thing stuck in her throat became.

"Ziva?" The voice was female, hitch-pitched, worried. Not Tali.

She began to cough violently around the tube as the faces came into view, and her hands instinctively moved to pull it out. People grabbed them and held them away. God, if she had the strength she'd beat them both. The coughing made her throat her worse, and her chest ache, and she couldn't really focus on the people.

"Easy Ms. David. Stop struggling, and I'll get that out of you." The doctor was speaking English, with an American accent.

The doctor waved the people away, and did something with one of the machines. He looked down at her. "I'm going to count down from three, when I hit one, you need to blow as hard as you can, okay? Nod your head."

She did as told. Americans. NCIS...

"3...2...1."

She blew as hard as she could and the doctor yanked to tube out. "Abby," she said, in a barely audible rasp.

"Right here." The goth was beside her in a minute, all smiles, and grabbing her hand.

Tali was dead. Ari was dead. Her father was not the man she had believed him to be. Her head fell to one side, breath heavy as the doctor checked her vitals. She could still hear Tali's voice in her head, could hear the pride in her own young voice as she talked of joining Mossad. She concentrated on her American family, who had yet to betray her. She didn't see Tony.

Jen moved close to the bed, a cup and a spoon in her hands. She tilted the cup to show Ziva the ice, and then spooned some into her mouth. Ziva nodded her thanks. "What time is it?"

Her former partner smiled. "Just after 3 am."

"Why are you not sleeping?" That triggered more coughing, so Ziva waved a hand weakly at the ice. She'd never felt so awful in her life.

"Waiting for you to wake up, David." Gibbs was his usual brisk self, but even in her poor state, Ziva still picked up the relief in his face.

She just nodded and worked on breathing.

"Your vitals are good," the doctor commented. "How's the pain?"

"It hurts."

"He means do you want more morphine, Ziva." McGee was beside Abby, looking rather amused.

She shook her head. "I am fine. I do not like to be drugged…but I am tired."

"Maybe we ought to leave and let you get some rest then," Jen said, offering her a warm smile.

She made to object, but a yawn escaped her mouth before she could. "Perhaps that is best," she said, only to frown in confusion as she realized something. "Gibbs?" She searched him out.

"Right here, Ziver." He stepped beside her and took her hand.

"I remember two men in blue police uniforms…but that can not be right." Local LEOs wouldn't have shot a fellow officer.

"You remember right, we're taking care of it, don't worry about it." Ziva knew that look on his face, it was usually accompanied by shouting and slamming things. It meant that she was probably better reserving this conversation when she felt less awful, or asking McGee or…"Where is Tony?"

Jen and Abby exchanged looks, while McGee took an interest in the floor, and Gibbs just stared at her. Suddenly her stomach leapt up into her throat, and her chest ached like there was a vice around her heart. Her brain in denial, she repeated. "Where is Tony?"

"He said he had something to do," Abby said apologetically.

Ziva felt relief wash over her. "He is alright?"

"He's fine, David," Gibbs assured her, and it was clear he wasn't thrilled with his surrogate son at the moment.

She didn't really care right then why he wasn't there, she was just happy he was alive and uninjured. In the morning, after the fear was gone, then she'd care, and give him an earful.

It only took a few minutes for goodbyes, and Ziva was pulled into the land of nod not long after. With the painkillers in her system, she slept so soundly, she didn't hear someone enter her room. And, she didn't hear him rest a vase of lilies on the bedside table, or sink into the chair beside the bed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

* * *

_So, finally a little insight into Tony, I hope it was worth all the waiting. In case anybody was unsure, Ziva's confusion was due to strong painkillers, there's no neurological issues or post-traumatic trauma involved. The last chapter will be a little shorter, and I should be able to post it by Saturday. Thanks for reading, and please review! _


	7. Chapter 7

"Lieutenant Combs, Officers Bergman and Thompson, Mr. McKenzie." Jen greeted them in her office, Gibbs scowling beside her like a junkyard mutt.

"Director Shepard, Agent Gibbs." The Lieutenant nodded. "Any word on Officer David?"

"She was awake last night. It will take time for her to heal, but she's alive. That's very good news for you boys." She looked toward the officers.

The younger cop was so visibly relieved, she could almost see the color returning to his face. "Per my discussion with Tel Aviv, we won't be pursuing criminal charges against either officer—" All four seemed to sigh with relief. "Provided they give up their badges."

"You gotta be kidding me," Thompson growled.

"No Officer, I assure you I am not. I don't want, and I think you'll agree with me Lieutenant, two cops loose on the streets of D.C. who pull the trigger without identifying themselves or asking their suspect to stop first."

"She was already firing her weapon! You people called us for back-up, you could have warned us one of your people looked like one of them!" Thompson hit the table, fury flashing in his eyes like flames.

"One of them?" Gibbs asked, voice calm, but icy.

Thompson realized his mistake, but only shrugged.

"There's nothing else we can do to make this right?" McKenzie asked.

Jen opened her mouth, but Gibbs beat her to it.

"How long have you been on the job, Officer Thompson?" He stared across the table at the other man.

"Twenty years, since the day I got out of the army."

"You've worn two uniforms then, and you know that every time you put a uniform on, whether it's combat camouflage or DCPD blues, you are holding yourself to a higher standard. Every single time. You don't get to have prejudices, you don't get to be tired, and you don't get to make stupid mistakes. Stupid mistakes cost lives. You knew that when you were dodging bullets as a young soldier, and you damn well better know that now." Gibbs held out a hand then, calm, patient, but there was a dangerous current running underneath all that.

Thompson pulled his badge off his belt, and held it up. "Twenty years I've carried this beside my weapon, and I've served it with honor. You're telling me that that twenty years means shit now?"

"You haven't shown an ounce of remorse. You've burned out, Officer. I think you know that."

He snorted. "Maybe, but it's not like it will matter either way." He tossed his badge at Gibbs, and stomped out of the room.

Gibbs slid the badge to the Lieutenant, and looked at the younger officer. "Officer Bergman?"

"I'm not burned out," the young man said.

"No, you've showed remorse, but you've also been as twitchy as a rabbit. This is not your calling."

"Then what is?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Don't know."

Bergman looked down at the table, and up at Gibbs. His voice was very soft. "All I've ever wanted to be was a cop…since I was a kid."

"Time to grow up, Officer. The job's not a movie. There are no do-overs if you mess up."

* * *

Tony watched her sleep, wondering what he'd say to her when she finally opened her eyes. Two nurses had come through, one admonishing him for being there in the middle of the night. Now it was early morning, and he found himself wanting desperately to run from the room. It was too real. He wanted to go back to in time, to when he could still see Ziva as superhuman and invulnerable. To when she was just a crazy Israeli chick that tied his tongue and made him sweat all at once.

Not now, when she'd almost died, and was so much more than that.

Something caught his eye, and Tony turned to see her shifting, eyes fluttering open. She looked pale, but still beautiful, and almost breathtaking with her eyes open and focused on him. "Tony?"

"Who's that?"

She frowned, and he grinned, then she groaned. "Tony, do not do that. It is too early, and I am on a lot of drugs."

"See, that's why it's funny."

She shook her head. "You are impossible, Tony. You just want to see me low."

Tony chuckled. "No, but I'd love to see you high."

The great ninja-assassin rolled her eyes, then smiled sweetly. "Can you pass me that water, my little hairy butt?"

"Sure thing, sweetcheeks." He handed her the plastic cup with the funky twisted straw.

Ziva took a long sip, and then looked at him seriously. "Why were you not here with everyone last night?"

"Aw, did you miss me Zi?"

"Do not dodge the question, Tony."

He sighed and shifted in his seat, delaying the inevitable. "I guess I just needed to work myself up to it a little."

Her brow deepened, and her lips pressed together in a look of utter confusion. "Why would you want to be worked up? Have I misunderstood what that means?"

"Naw, you just mixed-up phrases. This is different, I had to mentally prep myself to get my feet in the door," he tried to explain.

"Why? What made you so nervous?"

He offered a short, bitter laugh. "Seeing you hooked up to life support."

"But, I am fine."

"Yes, you are. So, it's all fine now. Crisis averted." But, he could never go back to seeing her as invulnerable, as safe to love.

"Are you sure? You seem…" Ziva studied him, searching his face or his eyes, or whatever her brand of human lie detector relied on. "I do not know, different somehow."

"When you get released, I'll make you dinner. Authentic Italian, straight from great grandmother DiNozzo's cookbook." And, maybe she'd understand the change in him. Maybe he'd understand it himself.

"You're great grandmother taught you to cook?"

"Actually, she taught her daughter-in-law, my grandmother, who taught me. It's not like my mother was going to learn. Measuring things is hard when half your blood volume is vodka."

"I bet, though I prefer tequila."

"I'm a beer man, but Italian dishes require a good bottle of red wine."

She sighed tiredly. "It sounds wonderful, Tony."

"Good. How about we crank up your morphine a little, so you can sleep a bit more." He reached for the little dispenser button.

"No," she sighed, already getting tired. "I need to go for my run."

Tony chuckled. "Not this morning, sweetcheeks. You get to sleep in."

"Tony? Did I ever tell you I fell out of a tree when I was a child, and broke my arm, and very nearly my neck?"

"No, but I bet your father was pissed."

"Oh yes, very much. Ari taught me how to climb, and I taught Tali, and Papa thought it all very foolish and pointless. Do you know why I liked it so much?" Her eyes were practically closed, and he had the feeling that she wouldn't remember this when she woke up again.

"No, why did you like it so much?"

"It was the only place in the world not touched by the fighting, by Mossad, by my father, by any of it. It was freedom and peace…I did not realize I had found what I sought at the top of that tree." Her voice was getting lower as she spoke, her breathing slowing down.

"That must have been some tree, Ziva."

"Yes…NCIS."

"NCIS what?" Now, he was totally confused.

"NCIS is the top of the tree." She said it like it was the most factual statement ever, and then passed out into oblivion.

Tony stared at her for a good ten minutes before it clicked, before her drug-addled statement made sense. NCIS is what she found, the peace and freedom from the top of the tree.

"Yeah, Zi. You're at the top of the tree," he said softly, taking her hand.

"Finished what you needed to, DiNozzo?"

Tony turned to see Gibbs in the doorway. "Hey Boss. All taken care of."

Gibbs nodded, and sat in the second chair, his blue eyes intently focused on Ziva.

"She was tired, I cranked her morphine up a little to put her out."

He nodded. "She could use the rest."

"Yeah."

Gibbs suddenly turned to him. "Where the hell were you last night, Tony?"

He winced a little. "Talking to Kate."

The older man's expression softened, and he nodded. They settled into a silence then, both staring at Ziva, but focused more on their thoughts than her sleeping form. Tony rubbed his fingers gently over the back of her palm, the lump in his throat shrunken, but not completely gone. Not until she was threatening to kill him with paperclips again.

Gibbs voice startled him. "Don't wait too long, DiNozzo. You only get so many chances."

He turned, mouth open, to stare at his surrogate father, wondering if he'd just interpreted that statement correctly. Gibbs didn't look at him, eyes still on Ziva, the surrogate daughter he'd almost lost. Tony closed his mouth, and turned back to Ziva.

"Yes, Boss."

* * *

_So, it didn't exactly have a romantic ending, but it would have to be extraordinarily long if I did that, and it's just not in me. But, thank you everyone who reviewed, I greatly appreciate it, and thank you also everyone who read as well. _


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